Stolen From Me
by ArCHiE 1up
Summary: Hermione cried herself to sleep that night and almost every night since. A few days later she had been informed that he would be staying in a mental institution until further notice. Hermione was a mess for weeks. She appealed his case over and over, tryi


**Hey guys, what's up? Some of you who read my story the Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry story know that I said I had some problems with a best friend of mine, which is why I took so long to post. I also mentioned that I was working on a new story that mirrored the situation I am in, well, here it is. So I guess this is my way of kinda getting my feelings out because I don't know any other way to. The letter and poem in this story are taken from a letter Ashleigh had written me (slightly modified) and a poem I had written after drawing a picture of what I was feeling a few weeks back, so sorry if they make no sense to any of you. I plan on this being 3 chapters, that's it. It's a songfic to a few of Fuel's songs, one's that I listened to a lot when she left. Lol, and our song isn't "Heaven" by Warrant, so that was just tossed in here. (Ours in Barbie Girl. . .lol. We love that one!) Anyway, it's angst, but I think it's good. I hope you like it. Kinda a new perspective on Harry's heroism after the War (one that I haven't came across yet anyway). **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the pain. All JKR's "Heaven" lyrics by Warrant. (please don't tell on me, it's needed in the story!**

**Inspired by the song "Bad Day" by Fuel (I recommend checking out the lyrics if you don't know it) **

**Dedication: This is to anyone who has had their best friend taken away from them. I have the worst luck with best friends, lol. They always move away or I do, or in this case, she got taken away. I'm sure some of you guys can feel me on this.**

**Chapter One: Bad Day Again**

Ron wandered aimlessly through the cupboards in the kitchen, searching for something to tide him over until dinner. He grabbed a plate from the dish drainer, then shook off the excess water so droplets flew in every direction before he pulled the box of leftover-pizza from the night before out of the refrigerator. He, Luna, Draco, and Ginny had all rented a few films and ordered pizza last night. Ron had invited Hermione too, but she had said that she was busy and that she'd come over later on tonight to make up for it.

Without bothering to warm up the leftovers, Ron unceremoniously trooped into the living room and turned on the television. The Irish and French Quidditch teams had a match tonight. He plopped down on the couch and began to munch on his pizza while waiting for Draco to get home. They were going to watch the match together. Not ten minutes later before the match stared, his flat mate finally decided to pop in .

"About bloody time!" Ron said, watching as Draco tossed his jacket towards the chair but missed.

"The match hasn't even started yet! Climb off your soapbox, mate," and with that, he rushed off into the kitchen to get some pizza himself.

"Oy, Draco, grab me a soda while you're in there," Ron called as he kicked off his shoes and turned the volume up with the remote. They were interviewing Alex Finn, the new Keeper for the Irish.

He suddenly felt something cold on back of his neck, "Oy!" he shouted as he jumped from surprise. Ron heard Draco laugh then felt the can of soda fall into his lap. "Did you_ have_ to chuck it at me? Now it's going to explode when I open it!" Ron complained, which just made Draco roll his eyes.

"Calm down, Weasley. Just don't open it for a few minutes. You just better be glad I got your ungrateful arse something."

Ron scoffed. "I saved you a few slices of pizza, you know. I could have _easily_ eaten the rest of it," Ron pointed out.

Draco just rolled his eyes again, "For some reason, that doesn't surprise me," he muttered before increasing the volume on the television, causing Ron to give an indignant huff before dropping the subject as the Quidditch match became underway.

An hour later and the match was still going as strong as ever with no hint of it finishing off anytime soon. The score was 270-230 with the Irish in the lead. Ron was laughing at the _strategic_ move a French Beater made: He hit the Bludger, and instead of it hitting one of the Irish players, the crazed ball went after one of the French Chasers.

Ron was still snickering slightly when a tapping sound caught his attention. He saw a snowy owl tapping at the window. He immediately waved his wand for the window to open and allow the owl in.

Ron untied the letter from it's let and allowed Hedwig to nip at a leftover piece of sausage from Draco's plate.

"It's from Hermione," he heard Draco say, stating the obvious.

_Ron--_

_I'm sorry, but I can't make it over tonight. I. . .I had a bad day again. I think it's best if I just stay home and keep busy. I won't make very good company, and I just feel very much like being alone. I hope you understand. Tell everyone I said hi and that I'm sorry if I caused any inconvenience. _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Ron scanned the short note a second time. He noticed that her handwriting was a little sloppy, as if she had been upset when she had been writing this.

"Well?" he heard Draco ask, obviously curious about the note. Ron looked up at his mate, sadness evident in his eyes.

"She's not coming over tonight," Ron said lamely. "She had a bad day."

Draco just nodded in understanding. After a reflective silence, both young men turned their attention back to the television, however, neither of them cared about the match anymore.

They sad in silence, just the cheers from the Quidditch match filling the quiet flat.

Draco cleared his throat, "She's getting them more often."

Ron could just nod. She never had a "good day" anymore. Instead, she had "tolerable days" and "bad days," neither of which that were happy or cheerful. It had been so long since Ron had last seen Hermione happy. He missed her carefree smile and contagious good mood. He even missed their heated bickering. Things just haven't been anywhere near the same since _he_ left.

Well, not _leave_ voluntarily. He would have never even _entertained_ the idea of leaving Hermione or his friends. He knew the heartbreak it would cause.

"Do. . .do you think things are getting better?" Ron asked hesitantly, though he already knew the answer would be in the negative.

Draco just shook his head. "As much as I hate to say it, Ron, things _won't_ get better. He doesn't need to be in that godforsaken place. They _can't_ help him when he doesn't need any help in the first place. If it's not broken, then don't bother fixing it."

"I just wish he would fake it or _something_! If he only knew Hermione's constant state. . ." Rom trailed off.

Draco sighed, "Well, you know what they say, 'If wishes were broomstick, then even Muggles would

ride. . .' Things just won't get better. Hermione will _never_ get used to it or adapt to Harry being gone and not with her. _I_ can't get used to him in there."

Ron felt his temper rise when he thought about Harry's wretched situation. It was so unfair! He was the goddamn Savoir of the World and _this_ is how every showed their gratitude!

* * *

He had been deemed untrustworthy and dangerous. The War had "change the Boy-Who-Lived forever." He was emotionally unstable and a threat, not only to everyone in the world, but to himself as well. He was sure to go on a killing spree and take innocent lives. The Darkness that he had to face and conquer had, in the end, consumed his very being. He was labeled as "severely unhinged."

He was taken away. Instead of the warm flat that offered love, comfort, protection, and a whole new beginning--things he had never had outside Hogwarts-- that Harry had once shared with Ron and Hermione, he resided at a cruel, cold rehabilitation institution with the up-most security and strict regulations that was more like a prison than a home. Instead of his large warm bed that he used to sleep in every night with Ron and Hermione just down the hall, he was alone in a cold environment with no friendly faces down the corridor to sooth him from nightmares.

Witches and wizards alike feared him, feared his power and alleged plans for vengeance. Revenge against those who mocked him, claimed his words to be false. Those who snickered and agreed about him being too dangerous to be in school and demanded for him to be sent home immediately.

They feared that Harry Potter would take the place as a new Dark Lord because he had the power to do so. So, they did the only thing they could think of. One day, his status made a sudden change from Wizarding World Hero, The-Boy-Who-Vanquished-The-Dark-Lord to Wizarding World Madman, The-Boy-Who-Should-Be-Kept-Under-Close-Supervison. And what better "supervision" than being in an institution with no freedom to speak of and under lock-and-key constantly?

Of course, there were those that had outright opposed the very thought of locking the Savior of the World up, but there weren't enough to override the ones that _did_ want this "potential dark sorcerer" behind bars. They were grateful and recognized his defeat of the Dark Lord, but they didn't want him to mix with society. So, they dug up every dirty secret they could find that could be held against Harry. "_He had been brought up by harsh Muggles and needed plenty of therapy for the trauma he had been exposed to by the his relatives and the War before he could be emotionally stabilized." "He had a nasty tempter and enough power to destroy Lord Voldemort, surely he isn't safe, despite the fact that he was a good person that had never caused any innocent life harm."_ All his outbursts during his years at Hogwarts, every detention he had received for breaking the rules _("Breaking rules is just one step towards discarding laws and participating in criminal acts!"), _and even his connection with Voldemort had been brought up, as if the former Dark Lord could channel his evilness through Harry after he had been destroyed completely!

There had been controversy over whether or not he may have even played a part in Dumbledore's death. Surly _Snape_ couldn't have killed such a powerful wizard alone, and even if he _could_ have, why would he let Harry Potter, conveniently the only witness, live? Most believed that Harry Potter would never do such a thing, but there were those that _did_ think Harry may have been an accomplice in order to do away with the one wizard that could overthrow him once he gained power. Some that _didn't _think Harry had played a role in his death lied and said that they _did_ think he had had something to do with it, just to discredit him.

This was all, naturally, just a load of rubbish. Anyone and everyone that knew the _real _Harry Potter knew how preposterous everything that had been debated over him, but there were so few of them that they made no impact on his case. Everyone had fought tooth-and-nail against these accusations-- Ron, Draco, Luna, Ginny, Neville, Lupin, Tonks, the rest of the Weasleys, and most of all, Hermione. Not a day went by when she didn't plead his case and try to persuade anyone who would listen that their assumptions made about the alleged madman were completely false.

Hermione's hands were shaking slightly as she finished her letter to Regeliccutti's Mental Institution, where Harry currently resided. She wrote them everyday; she knew they didn't read her letters anymore, but she couldn't just sit here while he was in that _place_.

She carefully sealed the envelope, then stood up from the table. Hermione would have to wait for Hedwig to return before she could send it.

Hermione drifted into the hall and stopped in front of varnished wooden door, leading into her most favorite and hated room in the flat. Tears slowly started to brim at her eyes as her shaking hand gently grasped the cool brass knob and then pushed the door open, a whisper of a creaking sound echoing throughout the empty hall.

The smell hit her first, just as she knew it would. She would never understand why it surprised her every time she opened the door that _his_ smell would ensnare her senses so quickly. She expected it every time, but it still, somehow, always caught her by surprise. She let her eyes wander about the deserted room with such a familiarity that she felt her already-broken heart break just a little bit more. Slowly, as if trying not to disturb the atmosphere with quick movements or loud sounds, Hermione carefully closed the door and walked further into the room. Everything was still in it's place. His bed in the far corner with his old Hogwarts trunk lying at the end of it, full of old textbooks and memories. His bed was done up neatly (probably due to habit from his long stay at the meticulous Dursleys' house) with a blue bedspread, a small ripple at the corner that Hermione refused to smooth out. His blue pillow had a small indention in it from the last time his head had lain on it. Beside his bed sat a small table with a lamp on it and a Quidditch book. The rest of the room was mostly tidy, save a few miscellaneous items thrown carelessly about: a red shirt that was inside-out lying in front of his wardrobe closet, tossed aside in haste; a zigzagged stack of cd cases beside his small stereo; a gray hoody with a few dirt streaks on the arm casually flung over a chair. . .

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sob that begged to escape her throat. She walked shakily over to Harry's stereo and gently pressed the power button. After turning it to the right track number and then pressing the repeat button, Hermione slowly began to sway to the leisured music. It was Harry's favorite song. It was _their _song. Hermione would listen to it constantly. Hermione slowly made her way to Harry's beckoning bed and gently sat down, her eyes tightly shut as if she expected something to blow up when she sat down. Nothing happened. She kicked her shoes off and leaned back on the bed, his smell capturing her by surprise again. His bed always offered warmth and comfort, now it was just cold without his body to keep it's warmth. It was mocking her about something that she no longer had. Tears fell from her cinnamon eyes as Warrant's "Heaven" rang throughout the room. Hermione buried her head into his pillow and let out a loud sob.

It was so unfair! She was hurting. Hurting more than she had ever hurt before. Hermione wasn't a very emotional person. She didn't have time to cry and wallow over a broken heart. But she couldn't save herself from the emotions that hammered through her head and coursed through the very blood in her veins like poison. He never strayed from her mind. Her heart continuously shattered over and over every time his name rang through her mind, which was constantly. She tried to push him from her mind, and for the last week, she had done a decent job of it and was able to hold herself together. She still wrote Regel's, but it was more of a "going-through-the-daily-motions" deal. However, she couldn't do it for long. His memory was imprinted in her mind so strongly that is was impossible to forget about it. She couldn't pretend that she didn't hurt anymore. It was too much work.

Hermione knew she was a poor actress and wasn't fooling anybody. She could fee their worries and futile comfort attempts. She could feel their hesitation and apprehension in her presence. They all tried to include her. They all tried to show her she had other people that loved her and cared for her. They tried, despite their own pain. . .but their efforts were in vain. They couldn't replace her best friend, her everything.

No one was like Harry. No one understood her so well and loved her so much. No one was such a good listener and gave such sound advice. The War _had_ changed him. He was still the same old Harry, but there was a mature and wise air about him now. Not too many noticed the change, but Hermione had. She sensed his childishness melt away as he was forced to grow up. Hell, they _all _were forced to leave their child innocence and ignorant selves behind and look at cruel reality, even death, in the face. It was harsh, it was tough, but it had to be done. And Harry was the one that led them all. He pushed himself more than anyone else. He readied himself and swore to not rest until Voldemort was defeated, despite the poor odds.

He fulfilled his oath. He killed that bastard. Why was the Wizarding World acting so ungrateful? Did they not see what Harry went through? Did they not see how much pain he suffered? Do they know what putting him in a cage would do to him? To his loved ones? To _Hermione_?

They didn't care. They got their peace, they were satisfied. They don't want to chance it happening again. They don't care what Harry is going through right now. They don't care that Harry was suppose to finally be able to live the life he had always wanted. They didn't care about taking everything away from him.

Hermione sang tearfully to the music, her voice soft and painful. Hearing herself sing along to the music soothed her, but did nothing to heal her pain. It brought back memories, memories of them together and what they had all been through. It pained her to listen, but at the same time, the song made her feel more connected to him somehow. Tears fell freely as she remembered the night they had danced in the Common Room to this very song. . .

_Hermione was reading a book in the dimming firelight, while Harry was absently rubbing her feet at the opposite end of the couch. The rest of the room was deserted at this late hour. She continued to read while Harry unceremoniously traced random patterns on her bare feet. Suddenly, she felt her feet being lifted in the air slightly as Harry stood up. She eyed him uneasily when she noticed that devilish grin grace his face, making her nervous._

"_What are you doing?" she asked slowly when he took her book from her limp fingers. He dog-eared the page she had been on, tossed it aside, then took her hand to help her stand up. "Harry?"_

"_Yes?" he asked innocently. The fire seemed to dim suddenly, making the orange embers glow brightly in the dark Common Room. Harry's emerald eyes brightened, standing out behind his glasses, his messy hair tousled in all directions. His white button-up shirt was un-tucked from his school slacks. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she stood there, slightly in awe, and realized just how beautiful he was. _

_She noticed he was looking at her funny, and he asked softly, "Hermione? Something wrong?"_

_She was jarred from her appreciation of his physical being by his voice, low and slightly fearful. She just smiled sweetly at him in adoration, "Nothing. I was just thinking about how beautiful you were," she confessed. She watched as he blushed at the compliment, unable to meet her eyes._

_She gave a soft laugh, "So, what exactly are we doing?" Hermione asked, gesturing their position. They were standing in the middle of the Common Room in front of the dying fire with Harry's hand was on her hip while the other was at his side, his fingers laced with her own._

_Harry grinned at her and picked up his wand and gave it a small wave. Soft music was suddenly heard, causing Hermione to smile. Harry wrapped both of his strong arms around Hermione's middle, pressing her body against his own. "We're dancing, of course." She encircled her arms around his neck, and the duo slowly started to sway to the music._

_**The memories are gray  
but man they're really coming back **_

I don't need to be the king of the world  
As long as I'm the hero of this little girl

Heaven isn't too far away  
Closer to it every day  
No matter what your friends might say

"_I love this song," Harry breathed in her ear, causing Hermione to shiver with pleasure. "It's my favorite."_

_Hermione smiled softly at him, "The song is a really nice one. It suits you perfectly." she declared._

_Harry grinned in reply and just pulled her closer, softly singing the words to her. Hermione snuggled as close as possible and let Harry's voice, though not too impressive but absolutely perfect to her, wash over her. _

_  
**When I come home late at night  
And your in bed asleep  
I wrap my arms around you  
So I can feel you breathe **_

I don't need to be a superman  
As long as you will always be my biggest fan

"_Will you always be my biggest fan, Hermione?" Harry asked, and Hermione could here the seriousness in his voice. He feared that she would leave him, though his doubts were in vain. _

_She tried to reassure him, "No, Harry, I'll never be your fan."_

_Harry looked at her, his eyes unreadable, but Hermione could feel his grip suddenly tighten around her as he tensed up._

_She smiled sincerely at him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips before breathing in his ear, "I'll be more than just a fan, Harry. I'll always be your best friend. _Always_."_

Hermione buried her head deeply into his pillow once more, clenching her teeth in anger and pain. She tried to calm herself, but couldn't.

"Damn you, Harry, why did you have to leave me?" she whispered fiercely before suddenly standing up. "Damn you! Damn you for making me feel this way." Hermione cried over and over. She grabbed the opened Quidditch book that lay on his bedside tale and threw it against the wall in anger. Next, she picked up his pillow and chucked it at his dresser-top, causing the picture frame that held the photo of Harry and her at the park to fall to the ground, cracking the glass slightly. Pain continued to course through her as she pushed Harry's bedside table over. The music seemed to mock her, toying with her feelings, so she picked up the lamp that was now on the floor and flung it at the small stereo, bringing the music to a stop.

Hermione stumbled out of his destroyed room, her tears blurring her vision. She knocked over everything along the way, ruining the sealed environment of the room that she had tried her damnedest to keep just how it had been when he left.

As she staggered down the hall, Hermione brought down all the pictures that hung on the walls of all her friends and family. The living room was next. She took her pain out on everything in her path. The coffee table toppled to the ground. Picture frames were pushed from the shelves. Hermione grabbed the candle Luna had gotten her for her birthday and hurled it against the wall, making it shatter and chip the cream-colored paint. The DVD/VCR player crashed to the ground, their cords flying behind them. Hermione pushed the couch over, making it lay in it's side. Once she was satisfied with the destruction of the living room, Hermione made her way into the kitchen.

The dishes laying in the drainer came first. Hermione threw the plates at the cabinets, causing them to break. After giving another loud sob, she cleared off the counter by pushing everyone on the floor, causing knives and appliances to crash to the floor. Hermione jerked the cabinet open and started chucking glasses left and right, ignoring the stupidity of it. She hurt. She hurt and she just wanted to take the pain away. Hermione moved on to the next set of cupboards, not noticing the glass on the floor cut her feet through her socks. Popcorn boxes and cookies littered the floor now with the glass. Her whole body shook as she emptied the contents of the refrigerator next, making liquids go everywhere. After another shrill cry, Hermione stumbled in the direction of her bedroom.

Once she made her destination, clothes were soon strewed about and books were being flung in every direction. Hermione jerked open her bedside table and found a small folded piece of paper that brought an abrupt end to her destructing, rage-filled actions. Her shaking hands cautiously picked up the paper, as if it was a bomb that would detonate at any second. She slowly opened the worn two pieces of paper to read them again, though she already knew them by heart. Harry had written the letter to her one night when he couldn't sleep. It was Hermione's greatest treasure. His untidy scrawl was blotched slightly in places, caused from her past tears while reading the letter, and the creases in the paper had been folded over so many times they threatened to degenerate at any time. She read it everyday and it gave her hope. Hermione sat down on the floor, leaning against her bed. After wiping her tear-streaked face, Hermione read what Harry had written her what seemed liked ages ago.

_Hermione-_

_To you, I am perfect_

_Despite the fact that my imperfections always show._

_I am not always well-liked, but to you,_

_I am never forgotten._

_I may want to scream, cry, and just run away,_

_But you always make me forget what's bothering me_

_And help me through everything._

_Sometimes, I don't want to be around anyone_

_But after just one look or touch from you,_

_Once again, I just forget everything else._

_The effect you have on me scares the bloody hell out of me sometimes._

_You may be a bit of a bookworm, _

_And not wear flashy clothes._

_But I wouldn't like it any other way._

_You are hopelessly perfect._

_A jewel to me._

_If I had to choose between all_

_The riches in the world, make my _

_Burdens go away, have the perfect life_

_With my parents and friends. But in order_

_To get all that, I had to live without you, _

_I wouldn't-- couldn't-- change what we have now._

_For ANYTHING!_

_You are my best friend. _

_Yes, even when I'm depressed, angry, or_

_Anything else. I will ALWAYS_

_Love you and hold you close to my heart._

_Love Always,_

_Harry_

Hermione felt the tears well up again. Her sobs came back at full force. She folded the letter back up and held in close to her heart as her body shook with pain and anguish. "Harry." she croaked miserably. "Please come back. Please come back to me."

"H-Har-HARRY!" Hermione screamed hopelessly. She began to hiccup as the tears splashed onto the note. Hermione tried to calm herself, and finally began to even her breathing. "Damn you, Harry." She whispered over and over. "Damn you for leaving me. Damn you." She knew it wasn't Harry's fault. She knew that if Harry had it his way, he would be right here with her. But she couldn't help it. She felt pain and needed to blame someone at the time being. She was coming apart at all ends.

How much longer could she do this? How long had he been gone? How long had it been since he was taken away?

_Hermione giggled as Harry continued to blow raspberries on her stomach. "Harry, that tickles!" Hermione said through her laughter. Harry just grinned and stuck his head under her shirt again, blowing another raspberry. Hermione erupted in laughter again. Harry popped his head out from under her shirt and brought his lips to hers. Hermione gave a soft moan in his mouth and ginned. Harry laughed softly in her ear, causing Hermione to shiver as pleasure shook through her body. She pulled Harry on top of her by his belt loops, all the while giggling as Harry kissed her neck playfully, telling her how much he loved kissing her._

"_And there, and there, and I love kissing you here, and right here, and-" he flick his tongue out at a specific spot at the base of her neck, creating a moan to escape from the back of her throat. "I love that spot particularly." Hermione could feel his lips on her skin. She brought her hands up to rake through his black hair, making him shiver in delight._

_Harry pulled back from her skin and look into her eyes, causing Hermione to grin at him. He slid off of her and laid down on his side, propped up on his elbow so he could see her properly. His grin was mischievous and loving. He let one hand slowly slide under her shirt and to the soft skin of her stomach. His hand continued to travel upwards, grinning at Hermione the entire time until finally, he cupped one of her breasts through her cotton bra. He didn't move, he just sat there, his hand just resting on her right breast._

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are such a tease, Potter!" she cried while quickly crawling on top of him. His hands now placed themselves on her hips. _

"_Am not!" He said mock defensively, causing Hermione to laugh._

"_Are too, but I still love you!" She fired back._

_Harry laughed and brought her down for a kiss before burring his head into her neck, simply inhaling her scent. "If you say so."_

"_Well, I do say-"_

_A sudden knock on their front door caused them to stop. They both looked at each other, neither of them were expecting any guests. They shrugged, and Hermione got off Harry and stood before helping Harry stand from his spot on the living room floor. The two of them quickly made their way to the door._

_Harry opened the door to see a few business-like looking men standing outside. "Hello, may we help you?" he asked innocently._

_The taller looking man revealed his Ministry of Magic badge, the letter M and M interlocked with each other and a wand slicing through them, and said, "Hello, we're from the Ministry and here on business. May we come in?"_

_Harry nodded and led them into the living room where just a minute ago, Harry and Hermione were laughing and giggling on the floor._

"_I'll make some tea." Hermione said, starting for the kitchen,_

"_That won't be necessary. Our business is short and to the point." One of the men said, causing Hermione turn back around and stand beside Harry._

"_What is it that you want, then?" Hermione asked, but saw that the men were looking at Harry._

"_Mr. Potter, we are here on strict orders from the Minister himself. We are afraid that you have to come with us."_

"_Why?" Harry questioned, looking at the men as if they were insane._

"_Due to your condition, you are to be detained for an unknown amount of time-"_

_Harry cut them off, "What do you mean 'detained'?" he asked angrily, his hands going to his hips._

"_Mr. Potter, you are to come with us-"_

_Hermione cut in, "Like hell he will. What is this all about? He doesn't have a 'condition'!" Hermione said shrilly._

"_Miss, this business doesn't concern you, it's about-"_

"_Harry is my best friend, you better bet you ass it concerns me. You aren't taking him anywhere, Ministry order or not!" Hermione replied, anger in her every word._

_The two wizards looked at each other before nodding. They both took out their wands. Harry and Hermione's wands were in their rooms. They both starred at the men, now slightly fearful._

_Suddenly, both wands shot out of the men's hands due to Harry's wandless magic._

"_I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and dangerous._

"_We're afraid you are, Mr. Potter," and suddenly, one of the men threw what looked liked dust at Harry, causing him to cough violently and pass out. Hermione screamed and caught him before he fell._

"_WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, YOU BASTARD!" she yelled, tears coming to her eyes._

"_He's asleep. He'll be up in a few hours. Right now, we need to take him."_

_Tears started down her cheeks as she violently tried to fight the men off, but they overpowered her quickly. The taller man retrieved their wands and aimed his at Hermione, who was still struggling. "He's dangerous and needs to be detained, do you not see that?" He asked her angrily. Hermione tried to bite the man holding her, causing the taller man to slap her. "You little bitch. How dare you? Do you know who we are?"_

_Hermione seethed with anger. "You're bastards! Leave him alone!"_

_The men laughed. Before Hermione could say another word, she was hit with a sleeping spell. When she woke up hours later, the flat was empty and Harry was gone. Hermione rushed to the Ministry, but it was no use. They told her Harry was to be detained until further notice. No visitors, no contact at all. _

Hermione cried herself to sleep that night and almost every night since. A few days later she had been informed that he would be staying in a mental institution until further notice. Hermione was a mess for weeks. She appealed his case over and over, trying to reason with them, but to no avail. They ignored her. They ignored anyone that tried to appeal his case.

Hermione felt fresh pain as she remembered the entire ordeal. The sleepless nights. The loneliness. The fact that Harry was in that _place_. Everything. Hermione told Ron she was going to move out and find a place of her own for the time being, that she just wanted to be alone, but Ron would have none of it. Instead, he told her _he_ would move out and share a flat with Draco, leaving Hermione her needed space. Things have been a mess ever since.

Rustling through the drawer some more, Hermione came across her notebook and felt a terrible pang in her heart as she flipped it to the second page. She knew the poem. She had written in just a few weeks ago. She didn't need to look at the words to know what they said, to know how they don't do her feeling justice in the least.

_The piercing took me by surprise_

_I felt confusion clog my senses_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_The wound was sore at first_

_A mere dull ache that throbbed constantly_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_Days turned into weeks_

_My wound became infected_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_I still remember the day_

_The blood began to seep_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_A week later, thick red liquid_

_Began to trail down my heart_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_My pearl-white wings were stained scarlet_

_As the silver dagger began to twist painfully_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_I felt the cold sweep over_

_As Darkness overpowered_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_You were snatched away_

_It was unfairly done_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_I don't know when you'll get back_

_But I know I'll bleed freely until you return_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_I'll clean my wound with salt_

_Just so I never forget you_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_Then when you come back_

_My wound will be just another scar_

_What was happening?_

_Was this all real?_

_Until then, I'll be content_

_With blood-stained wings_

_And a fresh wound_

_As the dagger plunges a little deeper everyday_

_Is this happening?_

_Is this all real?_

She reread the last few lines of her poem over and over. She had drawn a picture of what she was feeling, and this poem had been inspired by it. It was the only way Hermione knew how to release her pain. She couldn't talk to anyone, she wasn't the type that tried to burden others with her problems. They were hurting enough already.

Hermione tried to stand, but felt too weak and dropped back to the ground. The folded letter and poem were still clutched in her hands. After failing another attempt to stand, Hermione gave up. Instead, she just laid her head back on her bed and cried. Cried for Harry. Cried for Ron and Luna. For Draco and Ginny. The rest of the Weasleys. She cried for herself. She cried when she thought she didn't even have any more tears left to shed.

She was pierced. Her wound wouldn't heal until he came back.

Tomorrow, things won't be any different. She'll wake up and realize what a mess she made. Her broken heart with shatter again when she sees she had destroyed Harry's perfect room in a fit of anger. She'll spend the day cleaning up, probably the Muggle way, just to keep her mind off things. The pain from the broken glass in her feet will set in, taking her mind off her emotional pain for a few minutes. Ron or Draco might stop by, worried about her. They'll be surprised at the disastrous flat. They won't understand. No one would. Tomorrow might be a better day. It might even be a tolerable day. But today wasn't. No, she just had a bad day again. Nothing new, she was used to it.

She had a bad day again.

**So what did you guys all think? PLEASE tell me what you think, it was something that was really hard for me to write. Also, any guesses on what Fuel song the next chapter is going to one? The next chapter will be from Harry's point of view, dealing with where he is and how he's dealing from RMI. So, review and tell me what you think! Also, a quick note to my readers from The Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry: I have been trying to come up with the next chapter, I've been brainstorming a lot while I was working on the roof with my dad and got a few things planned. I hope to start on the next chapter within a few days!**

**Stay Righteous!**

**Archie**


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